


My Little Bluebird

by TheLadyZephyr



Category: Jurassic Park - All Media Types, Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Accidental Plot, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, No I. Rex, Raptor Feels, The Park is Open
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-04 20:52:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4152513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyZephyr/pseuds/TheLadyZephyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owen stroked a finger down the little dinosaur’s neck; she clutched at him with tiny claws as she ate. She was a lighter, cooler shade than he’d been expecting, with subtle cobalt stripes behind her eyes.</p>
<p>“Beta, huh?” he murmured, “What do you think of that, little bluebird?”</p>
<p>The raptor lifted its nose from his palm, and looked up at him, tilting her head to the side to stare into his face. Owen felt some complicated emotion welling up in his chest; awe, determination and respect all rolled into one.</p>
<p><i>This is why I agreed to this, </i>he thought, meeting that solemn, reptilian stare.</p>
<p> <i>This is why I’m here.<i></i></i></p>
<p>
  <b> The story of Jurassic World without the creation of the I. Rex. </b>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, goddamn Jurassic World and the ridiculous raptor fangirling it inspires in me. I should really be working on my hobbit fic, Twice Told Tale, but I just couldn't resist the chance to write about Owen's relationship with the girls (minus some of the more Hollywooded aspects of the animal training).
> 
> Expect shameless raptor fluff, and some Owen/Claire cuteness.

Owen wondered, for about the five billionth time, what in the world he was doing here. The hum of machinery and the low whispering of the gathered crowd buzzed in his ears. The sides of the lab were packed with anyone who had the clearance to get through the door, and a few extras that he suspected had simply snuck in. It wasn’t every day you could witness the hatching of four velociraptors after all.

Dr Wu tapped on the closest egg lightly, and hummed under his breath before typing something down on his tablet, and Owen resisted the urge to slap the man’s hand away. _You are far too invested in this already, Grady,_ he chided himself, _you could be training German Shepherds back home right now._

He exchanged a glance with Barry; his friend was lounging against the counter, arms crossed and eyes wary. He hadn’t known the man all that long, but they’d gotten on well in the months of preparation leading up to this moment. He was a fantastic trainer, and was one of the few people Owen had met who could out drink him when it came to tequila. They’d bonded over their shared disgust in their employer’s ignorance of behavioural science.

All of the whispers ceased abruptly as a tiny scratching noise sounded from one of the eggs. Owen straightened, anticipation thrumming.

_Click. Click. Click._

He glanced up to see the crowd parting to admit Claire Dearing, the park’s operations manager. The woman strode up to them, quick eyes darting around to take in every detail of the scene. Owen gave her his best smirk, widening it to a grin when he saw her double take. God, but he loved strong, capable women. 

“Where are we at?” she asked briskly, ignoring Owen to address Dr Wu.

“Any minute now,” the scientist replied, once again stepping between Owen and the nest.

The trainer ground his teeth. 

“So,” he drawled, drawing their attention, “do our little ducklings have names yet?”

“Yes,” Dr Wu said distractedly, “They’ve been designated Beta, Charlie, Delta and Echo.”

Owen suppressed a groan. He looked back at Barry, who was shaking his head in resignation.

“Do I even want to ask why there isn’t an Alpha?” he asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.

“You’ve ensured us that _you_ will be able to control these assets, Mr Grady,” Ms Dearing said, pursing her lips.

He crossed his arms, frowning.

“I’ve said that I can _attempt_ to _train_ these animals,” he corrected, anger colouring his tone. “Did _any_ of you read my report? Debunking Pack Theory? Modern _scientifically proven_ animal training? No? Anyone?”

Barry put a hand on his arm, and he subsided to muttered curses.

Ms Dearing clenched her jaw.

“We hired you because _you_ are the expert here, Mr Grady.”

_So no,_ he thought, frustrated, _she didn’t read the full report._

He opened his mouth to argue further, but a sharp crack shot through the lab, and every eye turned to the eggs. Owen swallowed his anger, heartbeat speeding up in increasing excitement.

Dr Wu bent over the nest, examining the hairline fracture in the shell. Owen cleared his throat loudly, and when the scientist glanced at him the trainer raised his eyebrows, staring him down. Wu gave him a disparaging smile, and stepped back to let Owen through.

_Show time,_ he thought, picking up the bucket of pureed raw meat he’d stashed at his feet. The closest egg began to rock back and forth energetically, and he palmed a handful of the slop, trying to keep a handle on his giddy exhilaration.

The egg cracked, a section of shell falling outwards.

And a slitted, yellow eye stared up at him.

“Welcome to the world, honey,” he murmured, awe imbuing his voice.

The infant velociraptor pushed its way out of the remainder of the shell, and Owen reached forward to tenderly peel off a section that had gotten stuck on its back. The baby chirruped, wiggling about to clear its limbs from the encumbering membrane.

He offered up the handful of meat, and the creature gurgled happily before burying its muzzle into his palm and slurping greedily.

“Amazing…” whispered Ms Dearing.

Owen flinched; in the moment he’d forgotten he had an audience. He huffed out a breath, embarrassed at how openly he’d been showcasing his emotions.

“That one is Beta,” Wu informed them, typing furiously on his tablet as two of the other eggs began to shake.

Owen stroked a finger down the little dinosaur’s neck; she clutched at him with tiny claws as she ate. She was a lighter, cooler shade than he’d been expecting, with subtle cobalt stripes behind her eyes.

“Beta, huh?” he murmured, “What do you think of that, little bluebird?”

The raptor lifted its nose from his palm, and looked up at him, tilting her head to the side to stare into his face. Owen felt some complicated emotion welling up in his chest; awe, determination and respect all rolled into one.

_This is why I agreed to this,_ he thought, meeting that solemn, reptilian stare.

_This is why I’m here._

***

“Atta girl, Blue!” Owen whooped, throwing a chunk of meat off the catwalk. The adolescent raptor snapped enthusiastically at the morsel, but it sailed between her jaws to fall on the ground. She pounced, scarfing it down frantically before her siblings could try for it, eliciting a chuckle from the trainer.

“Eh?” he asked Barry, spreading his arms and grinning.

Barry returned the smile, inclining his head.

“Yes, very nice,” he said, rolling his eyes. “If all powers that be wanted them to do was spin in a circle, they’d be giving you a medal already.”

Owen scoffed.

“Semantics, man, semantics.”

The raptors dashed off into the undergrowth, nipping playfully at each other’s flanks. The two trainers gathered their equipment and walked back out of the enclosure.

“So how are you going with Ms Dearing?” Barry asked with a cheeky grin.

Owen groaned.

“Seriously, that woman is not worth my damn trouble,” he griped, trotting down the stairs.

“And yet, you continue to try,” his friend snorted in reply.

“You know me, Barry,” he said spreading his arms and walking backwards, “I never back down from a challenge.”

Barry shook his head, waving over his shoulder as he turned and walked away. Owen continued around the raptor pen to the double gate. Technically he was finished for the day, but he usually preferred to wait until the park quieted down for the night before crossing the island to his bungalow. He punched the button to open the exterior gate, slipping underneath and closing it behind him.

He settled down with his back against the wall, stretching his legs out in front of him. The raptors were coming along in leaps and bounds, but he still wasn’t sure how far he’d be able to take them. A wild animal was still a wild animal, no matter how much training you gave her. He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the concrete. _As long as these idiots accept the limits when I tell them._

A chirrup interrupted his thoughts, and he turned to see Echo poking her muzzle against the bars, hindquarters wiggling happily. The corner of his mouth pulled up in a crooked smile.

“Afternoon, milady,” he said softly, and the dinosaur hissed excitedly at his voice. 

He grinned, and she squirmed around until she was lying up against the bars with her legs in the air.

“You’re all class, E,” he told her.

Charlie exploded from the bushes, darting up to nip her sister’s tail before sprinting off, giving out the chuffing little growls that Owen liked to think of as the raptor version of laughter. Echo scrambled to her feet, screeching in annoyance before tearing off after her pack mate. 

“Troublemaker,” Owen muttered, leaning back against the wall again.

Delta sauntered up to the bars turning her head to examine him with a gleaming eye. She flicked a tongue out to lick her lips, and Owen put up a hand, palm first.

“Oh nonono, lazybones, you got plenty earlier, I’m not your waiter.”

Delta rested her chin on the bar nearest to him, sniffing in a noisy breath.

“Are you sassing me, miss?”

She snorted at him.

“Fine, fine; who’s training who here, hey?” he teased, reaching for the bag in his pocket and throwing a chunk of beef into the enclosure.

“I’m a little concerned you’re asking that question,” said a woman’s voice.

_Ah, shit._

He turned his head to see Claire Dearing standing outside the gate, business attire impeccable and hair perfectly styled as usual. _What I wouldn’t give to see that faultless control put aside,_ he thought, momentarily distracted by the curve of her leg.

Claire raised her eyebrows and he realised he probably should have replied by now. _Crap,_ he thought, remembering his behaviour with the raptors, _how long has she been standing there?_

“What brings you out of your lovely air conditioned resort, Claire?” he asked nonchalantly, putting his arms behind his head and reclining against the wall.

“It’s Ms Dearing, thank you,” she replied calmly, though her eyes glittered with what Owen was fairly sure was suppressed annoyance. “You appear to be developing quite a bond with the animals, Mr Grady.”

“Please, call me Owen,” he drawled, ignoring the latter statement.

Delta trilled at him unhappily, no doubt lamenting that no further food had presented itself. He glanced at Claire, reluctantly digging another piece of meat from his pocket.

“You’re going to be the fattest dinosaur in the park you know,” he murmured to Delta as he lobbed it through to her.

Claire pulled out a tablet.

“Corporate want you to up your reports to twice weekly,” she instructed, flicking through screens. Owen stood up and approached her. “We need to be able to track the progress you’re making with the assets, so the board can –“

“Want to go to dinner with me, Claire?” he asked, leaning forward to prop an arm against the bars.

“The board… the board can… sorry?” she asked, brows drawing together in confusion.

Owen smiled; he hadn’t missed the way her eyes had darted down to his arms. _She’s fucking cute Grady, if you can keep the sappy dino-nerd routine under wraps you may just have a chance here._

A squeaking, sibilant snarl made Claire jump; Owen sighed, recognising Blue’s trademark attention seeking call. He glanced over his shoulder, she was standing opposite him, head held regally high as she eyed him disdainfully.

“So,” he said, looking back at Claire, “You…me…” he flashed his teeth in a grin, “Dinner?”

***

“I swear to God Barry, she had a damned _itinerary!”_

Barry hummed noncommittally under his breath, sliding a tape measure carefully around Echo’s neck. The raptor was held securely in the brace designed to allow them to perform the necessary husbandry tasks.

“Then she was going on and on about my freakin’ _shorts_ like that has any impact on anything!” Owen ranted, throwing his arms in the air.

“You wore shorts?” Barry asked incredulously.

Owen stopped.

“No. Maybe? What does that matter? I’ve gone on dates wearing shorts before!” he retorted.

Barry clucked disapprovingly, “Have you ever gone on a date with a girl like her before?”

Owen brought to mind the last few girls he’d taken out. Admittedly, he tended to date girls who were less… professional… than the park manager.

“Fine!” he declared, pacing over to check Blue’s eyes. “Fine, if I’m not posh enough for Ms Snooty, then whatever.”

The raptor blew air out of her nose in greeting.

“Anyway, who needs another woman when I’ve got you, hey little bluebird?” he murmured fondly.

Barry snorted. “You know you said that out loud, right?”

“Don’t listen to him baby,” Owen crooned, “He doesn’t understand us.”

The other trainer chuckled, and Owen scratched Blue under the chin. He focused on the routine tasks of the raptor’s check-up, and vowed to stop dwelling on smooth, pale skin and a fleeting smile.

***


	2. Chapter 2

Owen sat in a pile of motorcycle parts, happily covered in grease and motor oil, a cold beer in his hand and the afternoon chatter of the island's wildlife proving some damn gorgeous background noise. A grunting roar joined the twittering tropical bird sounds, and he grinned contentedly. _Home sweet home._

He was still riding the high from his success with the girls earlier that day, though the encounter with Hoskins had left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. _Don’t go there, Grady,_ he told himself, _you learnt years ago that there’s no point trying to educate people about things they don’t want to learn._ Men like Hoskins were too enamoured with the thrill of _dominance_ and _control_ to let a little thing like scientifically proven data impact on their ideals. 

Owen sighed, trying to regain the relaxed atmosphere. Like most behaviourists, he’d had his time on a soapbox, back before he’d joined the navy as a dog handler. Experience (and a couple of pointless dust ups with some old school trainers) had taught him to pick his battles; he knew that eventually the facts would filter through to the general public. 

“Live and let live, man,” he murmured, taking a swig of his beer and putting the matter from his thoughts.

Dusk fell, and he whiled away the hours tinkering serenely with his bike. Pretentious InGen security officers aside, life on Isla Nublar was damn close to perfect. 

The crunch of tires alerted him to an incoming car, and he glanced over his shoulder to catch sight of a familiar fiery shock of red hair.

“Fantastic,” he grumbled, turning his back as Claire stepped out of the car.

He’d spent the better part of the last two years since their fiasco of a first date actively avoiding the park manager. The conversations they’d been forced to have for work reasons had ended in clenched teeth and fuming silence at best, and outright shouting at worst. He’d never admit it to anyone other than Blue and the girls, but the woman’s disdain had taken a chip out of his confidence. 

Owen and his mother had danced around the poverty line for the majority of his childhood, and he’d grown up around kids that thought his worth was on par with the quality of his ratty sneakers. He’d gone on to excel in his field, and considered himself a fairly confident person, but damn if seeing the condescension in Claire’s eyes didn’t make him feel like a dorky kid again.

“Mr Grady,” she began, striding across the grass with sure, confident steps.

 _Fuck,_ he thought in frustration, trying to ignore the exhilarated thrill that flashed through him at the sound of her voice. _This would be so much easier if you could stop mooning over her like an infatuated teen._

“I’ve just been speaking with Mr Masrani-“

“Owen.”

She stopped, pursing her lips together in a displeased line. 

“Excuse me?”

“I _know_ that you know my first name, Claire,” he drawled, covering the unpleasant jolt in his stomach with his usual swaggering bravado.

Claire’s eyes shone with carefully controlled anger; she cleared her throat, crossing her arms and staring him down.

“I’ve just been speaking with Mr Masrani about a new attraction for the park,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

Owen flipped the wrench over in his hand as he turned away, chuckling.

“Oh this oughta be great,” he snarked, walking back to pick up his beer. “What brilliant idea have they come up with this time?”

Claire hesitated, and unease stirred in his chest; he’d never seen the park manager consider her words around him before. Usually she just breezed past his attempts to shake up her professional façade. 

“He wants the raptors.”

The bottom dropped out of Owen’s stomach. He spun slowly back to face her, losing the threads of his constructed confidence as dread flooded him.

“…What?”

“Our focus groups show that people aren’t wowed by mere dinosaurs anymore,” Claire explained, eyeing him sidelong.

He couldn’t even care about what emotions he was showcasing right now.

“What. Does he want with them?” The words came out clipped and tense.

“Our marketing team thinks that an interactive exhibit will increase attendance. The Mosasaurus show remains one of our highest rated attractions, even years after opening.”

“Interactive?” he asked incredulously.

“Your progress has been improving exponentially, Mr Masrani and the board are exceptionally pleased,” she continued. “If the current trends in the data continue our analysts tell me they’ll be capable of performances that will make dolphin shows obsolete. You’ve proven today that you can safely interact with the assets without a barrier-“

“Excuse me?” he asked coldly, and she cut off, blinking in surprise.

Owen felt his legs getting shaky, and sunk down to sit on the steps to his bungalow. 

“…safely interact with the assets…” he repeated dully, running a hand through his hair.

“Mr Grady?” Claire asked uncertainly.

“You might as well come out and say it, they want me to take the raptors _out_ , don’t they?” he demanded.

Claire’s mouth thinned.

“We would of course assess the situation as it unfolded, to ensure the safety of all involved-“

“No.”

“We understand that it may take some time to acclimatise the assets-… No?”

“No,” Owen repeated, burying his head in his hands. “Just… just, no.”

Claire was silent for a moment.

“Owen,” she said softly, and even with the emotions cascading through his gut his heart managed a fitful flip.

“The board have their hearts set on this,” she said gently, and from the corner of his eye he saw her make an aborted movement that almost looked like she was about to reach out to touch his shoulder.

“They’re going to make this happen. I think that you’ll want to be here when it does.”

_Fuck. She’s right._

He looked up at Claire; she straightened from where she’d been leaning over him, adjusting her jacket.

“Someone is going to get hurt, Claire.”

She sighed. “Then just make sure that doesn’t happen.”

He let out a bark of laughter that sounded just shy of manic.

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

***

“Are you sure you don’t want to wear the damn body armour?” Barry queried anxiously, waving a black vest in Owen’s direction.

“If this goes to shit, Barry, body armour isn’t going to do a damn thing and you know it,” he replied dryly.

The two of them were standing in the gate room. Owen was trying his best to block out the chattering crowd they could hear from up on the enclosure walls, while his friend pawed anxiously through the gathered equipment. 

“Owen,” Barry began, touching the handle of a tazer prong.

“No,” Owen headed him off.

“I know, mate, but the training program isn’t going to matter one jot if she eats you.”

“I’m not going in there armed, Barry. ACU is on standby if anything goes wrong.”

The Frenchman rubbed at his temples.

“This is going to work,” Owen entreated, “The practice we’ve done with the low-vis screens went flawlessly.”

“You’re starting to sound as bad as they do,” Barry countered.

“Show some confidence, man!” Owen beseeched him.

He noticed Hoskins strutting up to the outer gate, and plastered on his best ‘cocky, alpha trainer’ look. _Give them what they want to see._

“How’re you feeling buddy?” Hoskins asked cheerfully, his too loud voice making Owen clench a fist in annoyance. “Your people tell me all the critters but our test subject are safely in the back pen; we’re ready to start whenever you are.”

“Fantastic,” he said, giving the creep a forced grin. “Let’s get to it then.”

Hoskins chuckled. “Nervous?”

“Nah it’ll be easy,” Owen replied with thinly veiled sarcasm, “Just gotta show them who the Alpha is, huh?”

The man snorted and clapped him over the shoulder, sniggering under his breath as he left the gate room. Owen turned back to Barry, letting the grin drop with a groan. His friend clasped his hand and gave him a quick hug, patting him on the back.

“You can do this man.”

Owen rolled his shoulders, and nodded.

Barry left the gate room, shutting the outer door behind himself. Owen took a deep, steadying breath.

“Blue!” he called, fiddling with the meat pouch attached to his belt and shifting his clicker around in his hand. “Here!”

She trotted up to the inner gate, beautiful and deadly and so damn intelligent. He depressed the clicker button as she arrived, fishing out a chunk of food and tossing it through the bars.

“Good girl,” he murmured to her, “Just you and me now, honey.”

She tilted her head, giving him the considering look he knew so well.

“Okay darling, let’s do this.”

Steeling his nerves, making sure to move slowly and smoothly, he crossed to the control panel.

And hit the button.

Blue stepped back as the gate slid open with a mechanical crunch, chirruping in interest. The door slid home, and she swivelled her head to fixate on him unblinkingly.

“Just you and me, little bluebird,” he crooned, and he took a step towards her, keeping his body language non-threatening.

“Back up,” he asked lightly, and a little bit of the tension in his spine eased when she took a few steps away from him.

He clicked as she finished moving, heart beating somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. He lobbed another chunk of meat for her.

“Very nice, gorgeous,” he praised with a smile. “Okay, spin.”

She pivoted around gracefully, and he heard the collective intake of awed breath from the catwalk above them. Another click, another piece of cubed meat.

“Lovely,” he grinned.

She dipped her head at him, gurgling softly. Owen glanced up to see the crowd above them staring transfixed. Claire was standing next to Barry, covering her mouth with her hands.

“What say we give them a show, hey sweetie? Blue, stay.”

She stilled, membranes flicking across her eyes and back slowly. He blew out a breath, and began to inch forward. One step, then another, boots crunching softly on the sandy floor. He reached a hand forward, and she snorted, tossing her head up in the air. He stopped, holding his position until she quieted again.

Those last few inches felt like miles and miles. He couldn’t hear anything aside from her quiet breathing, the slight rustle of grass as she shifted her weight.

_We can do this, baby._

His reaching fingertips brushed her scales.

He let out a breath he hadn’t even been away he’d been holding. He ran his fingers along the pebbled skin, sliding along the side of her muzzle to scratch lightly under her jaw.

“Hey pretty lady,” he whispered, pure, unfiltered joy washing over him.

All at once, Blue jerked her head back swiftly, and watchers on the catwalk gasped. Owen froze, arm still outstretched, eyes widening.

Then the raptor bent her neck down, and butted her forehead against his chest.

He blinked in astonishment, instinctively reaching up to place his hands on her arched neck.

_Holy shit._

He stroked rhythmically, his arm trembling slightly.

“Thank you, my little bluebird,” he breathed, awed.

She gathered her legs underneath herself, lowering herself down so that she was lying in front of him, and blew a noisy breath against his chest.

“Goddamn I love my job.”

***

Vic Hoskins stared down greedily into the pen, engrossed in the view of the man with his arms wrapped around the dinosaur’s neck. He pulled a phone from his pocket, flicking it open and typing into the text window.

_Phase 1 complete success, move to phase 2._

He hit send with vindictive satisfaction, leaning over to grasp the rail tightly.

The metal creaked in his grip, and his lips stretched to the sides in a parody of a smile.

“This,” he whispered to himself, “Is going to make me rich.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BLUE!!! <3
> 
> You may be able to tell, my day job is as an animal trainer. If anyone is interested in the style of training I have Owen using, check out [this site](https://positively.com/dog-training/myths-truths/pack-theory-debunked/). I was quite impressed with the training in the film, by Hollywood standards at least. I mean, the actual mechanics were WOEFUL (if your trainer ever spams the clicker like that, I'd really recommend getting a new trainer) but at least he was using modern, positive reinforcement methods. I'm stubbornly headcanoning all the Alpha/Pack Hierachy stuff as an inside joke. (Climbs off of soapbox)
> 
> Thanks to everyone for commenting and kudosing, you guys are awesome!! I'm always happy to answer questions about Jurassic World, animal training or adorable raptors. I've also got [a tumblr](http://theladyzephyr.tumblr.com/), though fair warning, it is entirely bagginshield trash.
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> \- Zee


	3. Chapter 3

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Raptor Arena.”

Owen’s amplified voice echoed across the packed stands, momentarily drowning out the excited chattering of the crowd. He was standing on a raised platform in the centre of the velociraptor enclosure, a microphone clipped to his collar and a variety of training paraphernalia belted around his hips. 

He hoped that the sweat beading on the back of his neck wasn’t apparent to the five hundred odd excited park-goers chosen by Masrani’s people to test how his girls would perform alongside the noise and unpredictability of the general public.

_We’re going to be fine,_ he repeated the litany he’d been chanting to himself for what seemed like forever now. He waited for the cheering of the crowd to subside from deafening levels before clearing his throat.

“I know you’re all excited to meet my best gals, but first we’re got a few safety messages from our very own park owner, Mr Simon Masrani, so sit tight folks.”

The mammoth screen at the rear of the arena flickered to life, showing Masrani at an ornate wooden desk, resting his elbows on the surface with his fingertips pressed together. Owen glanced over to the side of the stands, where the real Masrani sat with Hoskins and a team of analysts. The man’s expression was inscrutable behind a pair of dark sunglasses. 

The Masrani on the screen talked the sightseers through the importance of staying well back from the edges of the enclosure, and remaining seated throughout the show. Owen fidgeted with his belt, smothering the slow burning anger he felt towards the CEO. His every word of caution to the man and his people had been met with impatience; it was always “We need to show the world how beautiful these animals truly are, Mr Grady, surely you appreciate that,” or “If you are insistent that it shouldn’t been done, I have been in contact with a trainer from California, who has expressed interest in our work.”

The trouble was that he knew exactly where Owen’s weak spots were. No matter what they forced him to do, we wouldn’t, _couldn’t,_ leave the girls alone with these people. _You’re in far too deep, man,_ he told himself deprecatingly. 

“-but most importantly, enjoy the show!” finished the recording.

Owen swallowed, nerves jangling. _Please, let us get through this without the girls freaking out and I will swear off tequila for life._ Movement at the top of the stands caught his eye, and he looked up to see Claire and her assistant sitting down in the top row. He grinned up at her; earlier she’d professed to having an important meeting with a group of potential investors that she simply couldn’t miss. _Okay, maybe I actually can do this._

“Alright, guys, without further ado, I’d like to introduce to our leading ladies.”

He blew two sharp blasts on the whistle around his neck and a gate in the rock wall at the rear of the enclosure ground open. The audience quieted in anticipation and Owen took one last deep breath.

“Echo! Here!”

She darted out of the door, head down and legs pumping, racing around the foliage and bounding over rocks. The crowd gasped, and she slid to a halt in front of him, scattering pebbles.

“Good girl, E,” he hummed, lobbing her a chunk of meat. “Class, meet Echo. Echo, meet the wonderful people here to see you and your sisters.”

He gave a hand signal and Echo turned towards the stand and lowered her head to the ground in a deep bow. The crowd clapped and cheered in delight, and Echo stiffened slightly, twisting her head back and forth, leaning her body weight backwards.

Owen stepped off the platform, seizing the gibbering panic welling up inside him and shoving it unceremoniously into a locked box; Echo would sense his anxiety if he wasn’t careful.

“Echo is our second oldest raptor here at Jurassic World, and she’s the sweetie of the family,” he said the words by rote, reaching up to pat her lightly on the side. She flinched at his touch, and he felt his heart breaking. She twisted her neck to look down at him, and he flicked the switch to turn his mic off.

“You’re all good, honey, don’t mind them,” he murmured to her, reaching up to scratch lightly under her chin. 

She leant down to bury her head between his arm and his body, and the crowd let out a collective smitten aww. He turned the mic back on, and worked his way through his lines, talking the audience through Echo’s height and weight, and getting her to open her jaws wide to show off her mouthful of teeth. The familiar patterns of the routine helped both of them calm down, and to his relief Echo’s respiratory rate slowed down to her regular level.

The crowd seemed completely entranced, laughing and shouting in delight. Owen glanced up at Claire to see her leaning forward, spellbound, arms braced on the seat on front of her. She jumped and sat back when she noticed him watching, focusing her attention on the tablet in her lap. He smirked, sending Echo forward to leap up onto a rock and give the audience a chittering call.

“Now, Echo may be lovely and well-tempered, but her sister Charlie is another story,” he told the tourists. “Charlie’s a bit more… well I’d love to tell you, but there are children in attendance.”

The audience tittered, and Owen returned Masrani’s frown with his best shit-eating grin.

“Let’s just say she’s a bit of a prankster,” he said wryly, and he heard the metallic whir of another door opening. “Echo and I are much too crafty to let her get the best of us, aren’t we darling?”

Echo bounced her head up and down in a nod, and the audience started calling out warnings and pointing behind them. He made a show of not understanding, giving Charlie time to creep up behind them. The raptor let out a screeching roar and he ducked with a yell as she flew over his head.

Charlie spun and pounced on Echo, chattering happily, and the two of them took off around the edges of the pen while the crowd laughed uproariously. _That’s my girls,_ he thought, beaming at them.

The rest of the show rushed by in a flash, Delta showcasing her apparent laziness by pretending to sleep whenever he asked her to do something, and Blue strutting around preening and completing all her tasks with regal dignity. In no time at all they’d reached their final act. 

Owen sent everyone but Blue back through the gates to where Barry was waiting for them. The two of them stood side by side on the raised centre podium, Owen’s hand resting light on Blue’s flank.

“We’ve got one more trick to show you today folks,” he said, pausing while the crowd called out in disappointment, “Blue here would like to show off just how far she can leap with those powerful hind legs.”

“Why won’t she eat him?!” cried a young boy in the front row. His mother shushed him, handing him a can of soda.

Owen chuckled, “Luckily for me, I don’t taste very nice. Ok Blue, show us what you’ve got.”

He signalled her towards the rocky outcropping at the back of the enclosure below the television. She bobbed her head and took off, weight low and footfalls thudding; he loved watching her run.

“Come on folks, let’s cheer her on!” he encouraged, clapping his hands rhythmically.

The crowd joined in enthusiastically, calling out in glee. They clapped faster and faster as she made a lap around the arena, raising the noise to a fever pitch as she hurled herself up the rocks, skipping nimbly upwards without losing any of her speed. 

There was a beat when she reached the top as everyone drew in a breath in anticipation, then she planted her feet, muscles bunching, and launched herself forward.

She flew through the air, bringing her legs forward with the killing claws extended; classic raptor hunting attack. The audience screamed approval as she sailed towards the platform where Owen was standing. He side stepped at the last moment and she landed agilely, whipping her tail back to counterbalance her momentum. 

The audience surged to their feet, cheering and waving, and Owen patted Blue’s neck, whooping and giving her a palm full of meat. Blue tilted her head back to swallow the food, then butted her head against his shoulder affectionately. 

“Booo!”

Owen looked up, frowning; amongst all the wild grins, the young boy from earlier was shaking a fist at them and scowling. The trainer’s instincts sent a surge of unease through him, and he took a step back.

“Alright, lovely, let’s get you back to your sisters.”

The boy stood up, leaning over the barricade, and Owen froze in disbelief as he pulled his arm back.

And lobbed the soda can into the enclosure. 

Owen threw a protective arm out in front of Blue, opening his mouth to shout, but it was too late. The can flew in and arc and landed right in front of them with a crash. 

Blue reared back, eyes slitting, and the soda can _exploded._

Fizzing soft drink sprayed everywhere, coating both of them in hissing liquid, and she screeched in terror, dancing backwards.

“BLUE!” Owen cried, reaching for her desperately.

She spun, and her tail slammed into his chest, sending him tumbling off the platform and into the gravel with a bone jarring thud. We fought for his breath as security filed into the stadium, and outraged shouts began to cut through the stunned silence. Owen scrambled to his feet, ignoring the hot lance of pain that shot through his ribs.

Blue hissed at the noise from the stadium, head twisting around frantically. He lurched towards her, coughing and wheezing, frenziedly trying to find his voice.

“Blue!” he croaked, staggering in between her and the stands, “This way honey, follow me.”

She looked between him and the milling mass of people, torn, and he breathed a pained sigh of relief when she focused on him. 

“Come on gorgeous,” he encouraged, backing up towards the gate.

He thanked every deity he could think of when she followed, and together they ran for the safety of the rear enclosure. Barry was waiting for them, waving them in with an expression of dawning horror.

They dashed through the doorway, and Barry slammed the button to close the gate behind them. The roaring cut off abruptly, and Owen threw his arms around Blue, pulling her close.

“You’re ok, sweetie, we’re ok,” he chanted to her, and she collapsed against him, shivering.

The weight on his ribs cut his breath off with a painful twinge, but he ran his hands over her hide soothingly.

“Don’t fret, little bluebird, I’ve got you.”

She relaxed fraction by fraction, quivers easing and heartrate slowing. Owen looked up to where Barry stood watching them, and his rage kindled and began to simmer.

“I’m not letting this happen to them, Barry.”

His friend met his eyes, and nodded, concern written on his features.

The door to the interior stairs that led to the stands whooshed open, and Claire sprinted in, hair ruffled and no tablet in sight. Blue flinched at the noise, and Claire froze mid-stride; she’d never been up close to a raptor without bars in between them. Blue huddled closer into his side, and Claire set her jaw and crossed the final distance to kneel down beside them.

“Are you both ok?” she whispered, reaching a shaking hand forward to lightly touch the dinosaur’s back.

Owen stared her down coldly, and she shrank back. _It’s not her fault,_ he tried to reason with himself logically, _she stood up for you when you said they weren’t ready for this, might never be ready for this._

“We’re fine,” he grunted, trying to soften his voice, “Though I, uh, may have a bruised rib or two.”

Claire resumed her fluttering stroking of Blue’s skin.

“What are we going to do?”

He realised with a bolt of clarity that he’d never loved her more than in that moment. Not ‘what are _you_ going to do’ but ‘what are _we_ going to do.’ The weight of the feeling clutching at his chest destroyed his previous assumption that he’d been dealing with a simple crush. 

“Owen?” Claire asked, and he blinked away his dumbstruck expression. 

Steely determination made him square his shoulders and raise his chin.

“We are going to get them out.”

***

The executives handled the fall out surrounding the incident, soothing the public’s fears and lining a few pockets to ensure that the only rumours being swapped were positive. Owen nodded along with their talk of “stricter safety measures” and spent all of his spare time either working with the girls, or plotting with Claire and Barry.

They had three weeks until the next test, and thus far they hadn’t come up with any viable plans for sneaking the raptors off the Island. 

“Where are we even going to take them?” Claire asked, throwing up her arms in dismay.

The three of them were gathered in his little shack, and he was trying extremely hard not to be distracted by the fact that Clair was perched on the edge of his bed. 

“Isla Sorna?” Barry suggested, and they paused, considering.

“That could work…” Owen murmured, thinking it over.

“What’s to stop them from sending a team to fetch them back?” Claire questioned, tapping a pen against her lips. “I can’t see Masrani willingly giving up his assets just because they’re running loose on an island full of wild dinosaurs.”

Owen pulled a map if the island chain closer, running a hand through his hair thoughtfully.

“What if he didn’t know they were there?” 

“Sorry?” Claire frowned at him.

“What if he didn’t even know to look for them?”

Claire and Barry exchanged a puzzled glance. 

“And how exactly are you planning on making that happen, crazy man?” Barry enquired with a raised eyebrow.

Owen’s lips parted in a feral grin.

“Uh oh, Claire, you might want to make a run for it, that look never leads to anything good,” Barry teased.

“Hear me out,” he began enthusiastically. 

Claire leant forward to listen to him outline his plan with rapt attention, and he tried not to let himself be too distracted by the thought that he could get used to seeing her in his bed.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Blue!!
> 
> Oops snuck some plot in, my apologies. Owen is officially done with this shit.
> 
> Thanks for the love beautiful people :)
> 
> \- Zee


End file.
